Affection
by Immer Mit Der Ruhe
Summary: Charles welcomed his stepfather, Kurt, once upon a time. After all, Kurt certainly paid more attention to him than his mother ever did. Erik finds out that Charles is just as messed up as he is. Charles/Erik and dubcon!Charles/Kurt.
1. Chapter 1

**This is for a prompt on the X-Men First Kink:** Charles welcomes his stepfather because his mum completely neglected him. Kurt uses Charles's neediness to maintain a sexual relationship with him. Charles doesn't enjoy the sex, but honestly doesn't think there is anything wrong with their relationship. Thus, he has no problems talking about his stepfather. (Yes, make it twisted.) I'm rather curious in exploring someone else finding out and reacting. Charles/Erik if it's Erik.

**Pairings:** Charles/Erik, Charles/Kurt

**Warnings:** underage, dubcon, child/sibling abuse, neglect

**Ruhe (ironic, oui? - for those of you who know German):** Damn I feel morbid. No, I do not own any of these characters. If I did then X-Men: First Class would have turned out very differently.

* * *

**- _Affection_ -**

* * *

Everyone stared. Sean looked like some sort of fish, his mouth hanging open comically, gaping open and closed. Hank and Alex were in similar states, except with less mouth gaping, and Raven even flickered blue for a moment. Moira was cursing and trying to clean up the scalding coffee she had just dropped.

Erik, on the other hand, looked disgruntled and nonplussed. Slung over his shoulder was what appeared to be a boy. The boy was unconscious and looked to be about fourteen or fifteen. Said boy was Charles Xavier.

"So...how did this happen, again?" Raven asked, trying to regain her composure, however her eyes remained locked on Charles' limp form.

Erik sighed. "The mutant we tried to recruit wasn't cooperative, thought we were threatening him and somehow turned Charles into...this," he replied, hefting the boy off of his shoulder and onto a couch.

The brown haired teenager gave a small groan as his head knocked against the arm of the couch, his eyes fluttering open a moment later. He blearily looked up at the gathered crowd, confusion written all over his face. His eyes widened slightly as they landed on Raven, his expression brightening considerably and a small grin spreading across his face. However, that grin quickly flickered off, concern replacing it.

"Raven, what are you doing down here?" he asked, nervously scanning the room. "And what are these people doing here? Where are Mother and Father? Cain?"

The blonde girl bit her lip, unsure exactly how to respond. "Charles…do you know what year it is?"

Charles' blue eyes widened a bit, making him look more panicked than before, struggling into a more upright sitting position on the couch. "Is something wrong, Raven? Has something happened?"

"Charles…" Raven began, unsure how exactly to break the news. "It's…well, you accidentally had a bit of mishap with…someone else like us. Someone who can make people younger. It should wear off in a few days, but…"

"Can you show me?" the brown haired boy asked, gesturing like he was going to perform his telepathy.

Raven bit her lip again. "I would really prefer if you didn't," she replied after a moment. "Any of us, actually. I mean, this condition will only last a few days anyway. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, sure," Charles answered, but still looking a little disgruntled. "So I just, what? Go about this like Mother and Father are gone on a trip or something?"

"Pretty much," the shapeshifter said, still looking slightly uneasy, but more comfortable than before.

"So…" Charles started, his eyes shifting over to the others. "Who are they?"

Erik shivered slightly, as Charles' blue eyes fixed directly on him, a curiousness in them, like the eyes of someone with a particularly interesting puzzle.

Raven introduced them each in turn, Charles nodding along, but his eyes kept straying towards Erik. It unnerved the tall German, but there was also something…he couldn't quite put his finger on it…

When Raven finished, everyone tried to subtly escape the room (which they rather failed at). Erik was the last one – besides Charles – to step out the door. As he walked down the hallway, he heard the soft pitter-patter of feet on the stone of the hallway, and soon he found Charles walking in sync next to him.

"Do you play chess?" Blue eyes looked up at Erik, and he didn't think it was physically possible for him to say no.

* * *

Truth be told, Erik was starting to find the whole situation rather unnerving. It was…odd seeing Charles like this – even shorter and scrawnier than he normally was. Erik had also noticed a few character differences; only small ones, but he couldn't help but fixate on them.

The first one he'd noticed the day of the incident. He'd been initially reassured by Charles' request to play chess, but while playing the game Erik couldn't help but feel that something was…off. Charles wasn't exactly a loud and boisterous person, but he'd never been _ quiet _. Normally he and Charles talked during their chess matches – anything from cooking to philosophical debates, but while playing with younger Charles, the game was completely silent. Erik had caught the teenager sneaking glances at him a few times during the game, but Charles always quickly looked away. Erik found that he liked talkative Charles better.

The second thing he noticed took him a couple of times to realize. Erik first observed this behavior when Sean tried to strike up a conversation with Charles in the kitchen the next morning. It was a fairly one sided conversation, the red haired boy chattering away happily with Charles adding a soft "Oh" or a small nod every once in a while. After a few minutes the brown haired teen started edging away towards the door, before making an excuse to Sean and scurrying away. Truthfully, Erik hadn't considered the incident to be too strange at the time, but after a couple of days he couldn't help but notice that Charles was never alone in the same room as Sean or Alex and appeared to be actively avoiding them. Maybe he was just shy, Erik thought, but he had a nagging feeling that it was more than that.

Observation Three: Charles never went near the lab. In fact, Erik realized that Charles took the long route to the kitchen just so he wouldn't have to go past it. Once, when Hank had come into the parlor wearing his lab coat Charles had stood up and asked if he was needed for any more studies. He'd told Hank to ignore what he'd said after viewing the scientist's confusion.

Another thing that Erik realized: Charles acted like Moira didn't exist. He didn't talk to her, didn't acknowledge her when she entered a room, and hardly spared her a glance. The only time that Charles really looked at Moira was when she drank a glass of wine at dinner one night. Erik couldn't help but find this rude.

Erik's final observation concerned himself. Ever since he'd agreed to play chess with the brown haired boy the first night, Charles had followed him around like a puppy. Once, he'd found Charles trying to reach a book from a high up shelf in the library. Erik had easily reached up and grabbed the book before handing it to Charles and suggesting that next time he should use a step stool or chair. Charles had looked rather bewildered, from Erik's help or the suggestion he did not know. Another morning, Erik had come across Charles trying to wipe the blood off a scrape on his knee. Erik had acted logically and grabbed a wash cloth from a nearby bathroom, wiping the blood off of the cut and Charles' hands. This time, though, instead of looking shocked like he had before when Erik helped him, Charles looked appreciative, and perhaps a little…resigned, although what Charles was resigned to Erik couldn't guess.

Since that incident, Charles' concept of personal space around Erik seemed to diminish. It wasn't blatantly obvious, but Erik quickly noticed. It started with just standing a little more closely to Erik than was really necessary, just invading his personal bubble. However, it soon moved onto more physical contact, nothing big – it wasn't like Charles was randomly hugging Erik or something like that – just little things, little touches. Like when Erik and Charles set up the chess board every night for their game, their hands seemed to brush against each other more than they had before, and once when Erik was frustrated during training Charles had lightly placed his hand on Erik's arm in what was meant to be a calming gesture. But Erik couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong.

* * *

**Ruhe:** This story will be pretty short - probably only about four or five chapters. I'll update soon! I'd also very much appreciate feedback!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I do not own Charles, Erik, Kurt Marko, or anything else. If I did, it would be a twisted, twisted place.

**Warnings:** This chapter is probably one of the more disturbing chapters. Slight underage/dubcon, mentions of underage/dubcon, mentions of neglect.

* * *

_**- Affection -**_

_**Chapter** **2**  
_

* * *

"Do you care about me?"

Erik paused, surprised, his gaze shifting from the chessboard to the floppy haired boy across from him. Charles' blue eyes stared back at him, searching for something in his expression, and asking for an answer.

"…yes," Erik answered after a moment. "I do care about you."

His eyes shifted back to the game, trying to decide where he should move his knight. He heard a soft rustle across from him and a pitter patter of feet crossing the room, but his concentration was fully broken as he found himself with a lapful of Charles.

"What are you -" he started, as the boy's arms looped around his neck and fingers threaded themselves through his hair.

However, the end of his question was swallowed as Charles covered Erik's mouth with his own. Erik responded on instinct, kissing back, his only thought: _Fuck, Charles is kissing me._ Charles shifted on Erik's lap, trying to find a more comfortable position, his hands shifting through Erik's hair.

This movement snapped Erik back to reality, the awkwardness of this Charles' too small hands and still developing body. The _wrongness_ of the situation came crashing down around Erik and he quickly pulled away from Charles.

"What do you think you're doing?" Erik asked, meaning to sound a little threatening, but the effect was ruined by his panting from the unexpected kiss.

"Kissing you," Charles replied, clearly not seeing anything wrong with this situation except for how Erik had _stopped_ kissing him.

"Yes, I realized that, but _why_?" Erik retorted, at the same time trying to shift the teenager off his lap.

"Because you care for me," Charles answered, like it was obvious. "When people care about each other they kiss and have sex."

"Well, yes, _adults_ do," Erik said, Charles still refusing to budge from his current seating arrangement. "You're only, what? Thirteen?"

"Fourteen," Charles corrected, finally relenting and slipping off Erik's lap, only to kneel on the floor between Erik's legs, nuzzling his face up against Erik's inner thigh and crotch.

Erik bit his lip and leaned forward, putting his hands against Charles' shoulders and pushing him away.

"See, you're only fourteen," Erik lectured, but still ended up crossing his legs. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, even if you may have caught glimpses in other people's minds."

"I have sex with my step-father all the time!" Charles protested, crossing his arms and leaning back against the coffee table which the chessboard was set up on.

Erik was pretty sure his mind stopped working right then. "I'm sorry, but what?" he replied eloquently, shaking his head to try and clear it.

"I know what I'm getting into," Charles repeated. "I have had sex before."

Erik buried his face in his hands, trying to process what he'd just learned. Silence blanketed the room. Erik was about to reply, but he was cut off by Charles.

"Am I too old?" the boy asked, brushing his floppy brown hair from his face, and looking up at Erik through his eyelashes.

"What?" Erik said again, completely aghast. _TOO OLD? He's underage already and he's asking if he's too old?_

"Well, step-father cares about mother, but he doesn't want to have sex with her as much because she's getting older. That's why he has sex with me more often," Charles explained, as if this sort of situation was completely normal.

Erik swore that if he ever found Charles step-father he'd die the most painful death physically possible. "Charles," he began tentatively, trying to keep his fury out of his voice, "why do you have sex with your step-father?"

Charles gave him a thoroughly confused look before replying. "Because he cares about me and wants to have sex."

"But do _you_ want to have sex with him?" Erik asked, eyes locked with Charles'.

Charles glanced away, clearly uncomfortable with the question. "…Not really," he answered tentatively. "It kind of hurts and it…it doesn't feel quite right."

"Then why do you do it?" Erik questioned softly, trying to gently coax an answer out of this small boy who had been thoroughly messed up by his step-father.

"Because sometimes you have to do things you don't like for the people you love," Charles replied, his eyes again meeting Erik's eyes. "My step-father loves me and sex is the least I can give in return for that love."

With that, Charles stood and marched out of the library.

* * *

Erik didn't see Charles for the next three days. Not because he was avoiding Charles, not at all, but rather because Charles was avoiding _ him_. After Charles had stormed out after their awkward _ (twisteddisturbingwrong) _ conversation Erik had spent hours poring over these newfound facts. Spent hours trying to understand why someone as _ amazing _ as Charles would ever think that this is what he needed to be loved. Spent hours trying to figure out how he could fix this. Because he _ needed _ to fix this.

Erik was struck by the sudden question of if this is what Charles felt like after finding out about Erik's own sordid past. He felt even guiltier for pushing away the telepath's earlier attempts at comforting him. He hadn't wanted to soil beautiful, optimistic Charles. He'd never considered what it must feel like to try and help someone only to be rebuffed. He'd never come across someone who was a fucked up as him before.

"Erik?"

The metalbender's head whipped around, the metal in the room singing tensely, ready for action. He relaxed as his eyes rested on Raven, standing in the doorway in her customary blonde form.

"Raven."

"I saw Charles earlier," she said, her voice strangely soft. "You talked to him."

Erik studied her expression and nodded slowly, unsure exactly where the conversation was leading to, but he had a sinking feeling that it had to do with all of what he'd been going over in his head these past few days. Three. Three days.

"He wouldn't tell me exactly what you said or what the conversation was about or, actually, if you talked to him at all, but I know him well enough to tell," Raven continued, lowering herself down into the chair across from Erik.

"You know about it?" Erik asked, his own voice strangely subdued and a little weary sounding. "About his stepfather?"

A cacophony of expressions flitted across Raven's face – anger, pain, sympathy, sadness.

"Not for a long time, no," she replied. "Not until after Marko was long dead. Cain, too."

They lapsed into silence.

"Sometimes I forget," Raven said suddenly. "What Charles has gone through, I mean. He just… He hides it so well because he thinks it's _ normal_. Well, not anymore, actually. I managed to convince him to see a therapist for a while. He isn't in therapy currently, but he's gotten better."

Raven had kept her eyes lowered through all this, but then she looked up, making direct eye contact with Erik.

"What he really needs is for people to care. For people to really, _ truly _ care," she said. "I've tried to set him up with people before. Good, kind, patient people, but it's never really worked out. I think it's because they don't really understand him, and also because Charles hates to feel like a burden. A true relationship is both give and take. Marko was all take. Charles' last boyfriend was all give."

Another pause.

"But I think that you might… That it might work with you," Raven said, still maintaining eye contact. "Charles needs someone who he can relate to and someone who can relate to him. He needs someone who can take care of him, but who he can help take care of too."

"You think I could…?" Erik asked, startled. He'd never imagined that she'd entrust something as important as that to him.

"Yes, I do. I think it could work," she said softly.

"He won't even come near me," Erik pointed out.

"When he's back to normal, he will. Right now he just doesn't understand, but when he's older again, he will," Raven protested. "He's confused right now."

"No, Raven," Erik said, a sad look in his eyes. "You said yourself, he's gotten better, but this sort of thing… he'll always carry it with him, and if I can't help him now, how can I possibly expect to be able to help him then?"

"You can find a way," Raven replied. "If you want to."

And with that, she left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ruhe:** Another depressing chapter here! I do not own X-Men: First Class as I believe we've already established.

**Additional Warnings:** Mentions of Nazism and concentration camps.

* * *

**- Affection -**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Erik stared at the locked door in front of him: the door to Charles' room. He knew that Charles had to come out at some point to eat and such, but it had been nearly five days and he hadn't seen hide or hair of him.

_Although, _he thought dryly, _seeing as he's a telepath he probably can sense me coming._

Erik let out a small sigh at the thought before reaching up to the door. On the door, he placed a small slip of paper, smoothing tape over the top to attach it to the smooth wood.

Three words were scrawled across the paper:

_Are you alright?_

It didn't feel anywhere near adequate, but it was all he could do for now.

* * *

The next day, Erik found himself standing in front of Charles' door again, this time with a blank slip of paper, a pen, and a fresh piece of tape. Where his message had been was a new note:

_No._

At least Charles had replied. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

* * *

_Do you want to talk about it?_

_I don't know._

_What would you like to talk about?_

_Why do you think that Father is a bad person?_

_He had sex with you when you didn't want to. He took advantage of you._

_Sons are supposed to do what their fathers ask them to do. I'm a good son. And he loves me._

_Fathers aren't supposed to do things that hurt their sons. They're supposed to protect them. Not to mention that sex with a minor is illegal._

_Illegal?_

_Yes. The age of consent in New York is seventeen. Your stepfather could get a jail sentence for this._

* * *

_Can I tell you something?_

_Anything._

* * *

The next morning Erik stood at the door, paused in momentary confusion. There was no note on the door.

The door swung open and Charles' head poked cautiously outside.

"I thought that," he started, eyes briefly meeting Erik's before looking away, "well, maybe we could talk in person…?"

The last part was phrased as a cautious question, but Erik nodded, stepping inside. Charles glanced at him again, seemingly unsure – weary, but he sat down on the cushioned window seat, motioning for Erik to seat himself in one of the comfortable looking armchairs opposite him.

"…So, what did you want to tell me?" Erik asked, breaking the slightly tense silence.

Charles was quiet for a moment before responding.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, still not meeting Erik's eyes.

"Because you asked. Because you deserve the truth…and because I care about you," he answered softly.

"But you don't want _anything_ from me?" Charles questioned, looking up at Erik finally.

Erik paused. "I do want something from you. I want to let me help you…but I also want you to help me."

"Help you?" the fourteen year old asked, looking equal parts curious and weary.

"Yes," the metalbender replied. "We're…alike."

"You mean more than just our abilities."

It was not a question.

"Yes," Erik replied.

"Can you show me?" Charles asked, gesturing slightly to his head.

"Charles…" Erik started, unsure what exactly to say. "I'd trust you with anything – everything, but to show you...to make you _experience_ it…I would not wish that on anyone, especially you.

"But," Erik continued, "I can tell you. How much do you know about the War?"

"Not much," Charles said, looking slightly embarrassed. "I don't get to keep up with the news much."

"Well," Erik paused. "Do you know about the concentration camps?"

Charles shook his head. So, probably before 1944 in his timeline…Erik steeled himself for the upcoming talk.

"Hitler and the Nazis…" he began, a bone deep weariness setting into his voice. "They were very cruel to people different than them. Jews mainly. They viewed us as inferior – as worthless. Practically inhuman. It started with lesser things, identifying and cataloging us, boycotting our stores, street violence…but it became so much worse.

"Starting in 1933 these camps – concentration camps – were created. Some call them labor camps but they truly were death camps. We were give little or no food and water and worked in inhumane conditions. Many people died of overwork, starvation, and disease. Others were considered unfit for work and were forced into chambers where they were killed with poison gas. It was where people were sent to die.

"When I was not much younger than you my family – myself, my mother, my father…and my sister, we were all taken to a camp. That was when I discovered my powers. I – my mother…she was being pulled away from me to a different part of the camp. I tried running to her but the Nazis, they held me back. So I did what any child would do. I struggled and reached for her and tried in some way to grab on to her. I ended up warping and destroying the metal of the gate – without ever touching it.

"A Nazi doctor saw this. Doctor Schmidt. He experimented on me. Tried to get me to unlock my powers again. He killed my mother in front of me in order to make me angry enough to manipulate the metal. It worked and from then on the tests just got worse…"

Erik took a breath to steady himself again, feeling raw and vulnerable from exposing so much of his past to someone else.

"I…" he began again, Charles waiting patiently for him. "The camps were eventually liberated. But I had nothing in the world, not anymore. My mother was dead, as was my father and sister. I became so angry, so full of hate for the evil men who had destroyed my life and taken every precious thing from me. So I began tracking down these Nazis – killing them."

"And that's what you're still doing," Charles breathed.

"Yes," Erik replied, unwavering in his belief of his cause.

"Erik, you…" Charles started, staring at the other man with indecipherable emotions playing across his face. "You're amazing."

"What?" Erik responded, startled by the unexpected reply.

"All of this has happened to you, and yet you're trying to help me," he said softly.

"Charles," Erik said, his voice a little rough. "Charles, you have helped me more than you'll ever know. You – your older self – have done so much for me. Now I want you to let me help you, because I care about you and because you care about me. You don't have to tell me anything, but…just let me help."

Charles was silent for a long time. Then he spoke.

"I can't remember much of my actual father. He died when I was fairly young and he wasn't around much, anyways. He was a nuclear researcher and he died in a lab accident. After the accident Mother married Kurt Marko, my stepfather, and a friend of my father's. Mother became more and more dissatisfied with her life and began to drink more. Most of the time when I come home from school I'll find her so intoxicated she can't even sit up. If she's not drinking she's at some party."

Ah. That would explain why Charles practically acted as if Moira didn't exist.

"When Kurt moved in, his son, my stepbrother, Cain came, too. Cain is…unpleasant at the least. Of course, I can see why that would be, but…"

Here Charles took a deep breath.

"My stepfather beats him. I feel it sometimes, when I can't control my – telepathy. Stepfather has never beaten me, though, and Cain, he resents that. He bullies me. Nothing ever worse than a broken wrist, but it's not pleasant. I try to keep Raven out of his way. Stepfather's, too, and Mother's. She deserves more, but this is all I can give her."

Charles went silent for another few moments.

"Stepfather is not so bad. He's never hurt me like Cain has. He doesn't pretend I don't exist like Mother does. The sex isn't…it's not so unpleasant. I don't like the tests though."

Charles' eyes had gradually drifted so that he was looking at the floor, his knees pressed up to his chest, his arms hugging them. At this, though, his eyes darted up to look at Erik in the eyes before looking at the carpet again.

"Stepfather knows about my…ability. He's doing tests on it. Helping me learn about it, how to control it and what I can do with it. It's tiring and it hurts a bit but I'm doing better than I did before – I really am. I, just…

"Once Stepfather took me out into London, to see how my mind would filter through all the voices, all the thoughts. It was horrible. I passed out, actually. We've been going back every weekend, though, so I can gain control of it. Last time I didn't black out. It's – it's going better. It r-really is."

Charles' head was angled downward, his bangs slipping in front of his face, shadowing it, but Erik could see the tears welling up in his eyes. Erik stood up from the chair, moving across the space to kneel before the young, broken boy. And he knew exactly what to say.

"You're not alone."

Charles clung to him and cried.


End file.
